Pureblood Tradition II
by Aisling-Siobhan
Summary: SSHP DMHP Sequel to PUREBLOOD TRADITIONS. Muggle parents prefer to TALK to their adolescent children about sex. It's a Pureblood tradition, however, to help your children PRACTISE. But wait! Harry’s parents are dead.


Here is the sequel to PUREBLOOD TRADITIONS LM/DM so read that one first ok. Enjoy.

"**Pureblood Tradition II**"

**Disclaimer:** It all belongs to J.K. no matter how I may wish to deny it. I no own, you no sew got it? I came up with the really weird idea for this fiction on my own, however, because I am weird!

**Summery:** SSHP Sequel to PUREBLOOD TRADITIONS. Muggle parents prefer to TALK to their adolescent children about sex. It's a Pureblood tradition, however, to help your children PRACTISE. But wait! Harry's parents are dead.

**Rating:** NC-17!! Slash. Rape.

**A/N:** It is a sequel, so it would make more sense to read the first one first (regardless of the pairing).

_XXX_

**Words:** 6,440

**Pureblood Tradition II**

I didn't really want to do this, but Draco is sick and I haven't really got a choice. You, over there, Muggle! Do you have a problem with me being here? No? I didn't think so. Good. Anyway, I'm just going to continue with Draco's lesson plan. So I suppose that means I'll have to tell you about the time I went through with the Tradition, doesn't it?

I suppose I should give you some background information first. It would make it easier for you all to understand. Not that I care one way or another about you all, you understand. I don't care about you, not in the least. I hate Muggles… but, like Draco, I have my reasons.

I wasn't always a Wizard, you know. I used to be 'the freak'; I was worthless and unloved, unwanted and hated. And I woke up one day, the day I turned eleven and I received a letter in the post. My whole life was a lie. I lived with my Uncle, Cousin and my Mother's Sister since I was 15-months-old. Lord Voldemort killed my parents. You remember him? He was the tall, dark and scaly guy that covered this lesson yesterday.

My life was a lie. I was told my parents died in a car crash – can you imagine? My parents, the Aurors Lily and James Potter, having died in a car crash! Hagrid was horrified by the idea when I told him. I felt hurt: even after years of being lied to and abused, it still hurt. I was rather pathetic, wasn't I. No, don't answer that. It was rhetorical. CRUCIO! Idiot Muggle.

I came to Hogwarts and I learnt about magic. And I was a Wizard! And it was brilliant for a while. The fact that I was away from my relatives, the Dursley's, was brilliant. But the Wizarding World – like any place – had its downsides. But, we've taken care of those now.

One of those downsides was that I had to go back, summer after summer, to the Dursley's. I don't anymore. I haven't lived in that house since I was 17. And I haven't seen them since I killed them, so its moot point anyway.

Another negative about the Wizarding World… Voldemort. But it's ok, now. Voldemort and I teamed up when Dumbledore died, to fight against the rest of your filthy kind.

I was never much of a Pureblood elitist. I never thought I was a Pureblood. Dumbledore was always saying how 'Muggleborn' my Mother was. Every sentence that mentioned my Mum included the word 'Muggleborn'. Apparently., as long as the Muggleborn stays in the Wizarding World and marries a Pureblood, any child they have is Pureblooded by association. Hey presto, I was a Pureblood.

I suppose that isn't a reason for turning elitist, and it wasn't my reason, not at all. I hate Muggles, but then again I hate most Magical folk as well. All my life, I have been abused my Muggles. Muggle family members who beat me and starved me; Muggle teachers who ignored my obvious signs of neglect, who even told my family who bad I was so they would beat me more; Muggle neighbours who happily believed every disgusting lie that fell from the Dursley's poisoned tongues; Muggle doctors who believed I really 'fell down the stairs' and broke both my legs, fractured my collar bone and gave myself two black eyes when I was nine-years-old.

But then, the Witches and Wizards I knew weren't much better. Magical children who happily gossiped about my life and hated me when I didn't stay on a pedestal they placed me on; adults who acted the same way; adults who tried to control my life, who lied to me around and placed me in a abusive household for 'my own good'; children who used me for their own means – not that it matter's because I killed them as well. And of course, the one adult who always went out of my way to make my life miserable and abuse me as much as the Muggles did.

It's a wonder I'm sane at all.

Anyway. When Draco was sitting in his bedroom on July 31st 1996 (my 16th birthday), reading a book or whatever, I should have been with my parents. I should have been telling my Dad I was gay, so James could have explained how he would have had to fuck me a year on from them. Of course, my parents were dead…

That didn't mean I got out of going through with it. Of course I didn't. It was a Pureblood Tradition, and I was a Pureblood – although I didn't know it then – and even if I wasn't, my Father was. He would be rolling in his grave if he thought I was betraying his memory and ignoring the Tradition. I really wouldn't have minded; it's not like I would have been related to the person. As long as no one chose Vernon Dursley I would have happily gone through with it.

But of course, Dumbledore had chosen the substitute for me, without telling me or consulting me. He chose the one person other than Dursley Sr. that I would die before letting touch me.

I suppose you'd like to know? I wasn't there of course, but Draco let me kill him, and by then I was a pretty good Legilimens so I just raped his mind. I'll tell you then… not for your benefit of course, but because my therapist tells me speaking about things is good for the mind.

_Albus Dumbledore gave a discreet cough before he ran his hand down the length of his beard, smoothing it flat against his robe. He looked up, blue eyes twinkling, and coughed again. The portrait of a dark haired man brewing a potion, which hung on the door in front of him, didn't react. _

"_Salazar," Dumbledore said, having grown impatient. "Is Severus there?"_

"_He wishes not to speak with you." Salazar Slytherin's portrait hissed, and continued stirring his potion. "He wishes not to involve himself in any of your schemes."_

_Dumbledore smirked, a look that didn't suit the helpful old man persona, "tell Severus he will enjoy my proposition." Salazar hummed non-committally. But he must have told Snape, because the portrait swung open revealing the greasy haired man in all his snarky glory. _

"_What do you want, Albus?" He snarled, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, and a scowl that covered the whole bottom half of his face. "I am busy grading papers that read as if they were written by grade-A dunderheads. Pathetic," he hissed, speaking more to himself that to Dumbledore. _

"_May I come in, my boy? I have something important to discuss with you." He smiled warmly even as his voice took up a hint of impatience. Snape just moved to the side, and held the portrait open wider. Dumbledore walked in, and made himself comfortable in one of the Potions Professor's wingback chairs. Snape sat in the other and glared at the Headmaster, who dared to intrude on his time. _

"_Hurry up, old man," he scowled again, his hands clenching around the arms of the chair. _

"_As you know today is Harry Potter's sixteenth birthday." Dumbledore smirked, "I'm sure you remember what happens on your sixteenth birthday, Severus. And on your seventeenth." _

_Snape nodded tersely, his face whiter than it usually was. His first time had not been pleasant at all. As his Father was a Muggle – making Snape a real Half-Blood – Tobias Snape hadn't understood the Pureblood Tradition. He had screamed and ranted at Severus' Mother before beating her unconscious, then moving onto his Son. Severus had been beaten and raped. Then his Father had laughed while asking if he thought 'that' should be a new Tradition. "I remember," the man growled. _

"Good, and as you know Harry has no one to teach him." Snape raised an eyebrow, "I would like you to."

"_Absolutely not," Snape jumped out of his chair. The very idea of having to touch Potter appalled him. He may have been gay, but he did not do Potters! _

"_But Severus-" Dumbledore tried to say. _

"_NO," the man cut him off, "I cannot. He is-"_

"_His age doesn't matter." Albus cut in. "Nor does his sexual preference. I haven't got a female that I can trust enough. He'll have to deal."_

_Severus scowled, annoyed at being interrupted. "I do not care about his age or preference. He can enjoy sheep for all that it matters to me. I care, because I refuse to touch him. Because, and listen closely old man, he is a Potter!" Albus frowned. _

"_But Severus." He frowned and ran a hand over his chin, "imagine… you can really make 'that' a Tradition now. Your Mother would be pleased that you still follow the Pureblood ways." He smirked; very sure Severus had picked up on his hint. The Potions Master had, and with a cruel smirk the dark haired man nodded. _

Yeah, you heard right. Dumbledore practically told Snape to beat, rape and humiliate me. I don't know what he was thinking – actually I do. Draco figured it out after Dumbledore died, and I wanted so badly for so long not to believe him. Dumbledore wanted me to be pliable, right? Abusive Muggles made me thank the day Dumbledore and Hogwarts came into my life. I was so afraid of displeasing, of doing anything strange or wrong or freakish – like being gay – that I would have begged people so they wouldn't let anyone know. If Snape raped me, I would be so afraid to tell people encase they thought I was gay. Dumbledore, Draco thinks, would have threatened me with Snape and the rape into doing what ever he told me to do.

And of course, I happily informed Snape as I killed him, that Dumbledore would have happily let Snape rot in Azkaban for raping the Saviour of the Wizarding World once Voldemort was dead. Thankfully for me, because I enjoyed taking care of Snape myself, the War escalated and Voldemort and I had bigger fishes to fry than each other.

No one told me anything when I was sixteen, and as part of the Tradition no one spoke about it to someone who didn't already know. Hermione Granger wouldn't have known, being Muggleborn. Ron Weasley's sixteenth birthday went passed and no one called him out school, so I supposed his family didn't practise that Tradition. I know now that they do, the ones who fit the criteria. Everyone knew Ron wasn't a virgin; his parents didn't bother wasting their time.

None of the other Purebloods or Half Bloods I talked to mentioned anything to me. They probably all assumed that since I didn't have parents, I wouldn't be carrying on the Tradition. Well, I wish they hadn't assumed, it might have saved me a lot of pain and dignity.

Brace yourselves for this, Muggles. As idiotic as you already are, I have no wish to try and teach blubbering messes who couldn't handle what they're about to hear. If you have heart problems or weak stomachs let me know. Oh, you do, do you? I suppose you'd like to leave the room until I'm done? You would? Really. Well, newsflash, you don't do what you like anymore; you do what I tell you to. CRUCIO! Do you think you can deal now? You can, really? Wow! I'm glad you're feeling more up to paying attention in my lesson.

Continuing… it will not be pleasant, and sometimes I still have nightmares, but I dealt. And you will deal with what you hear, because I doubt Draco would be pleased by the knowledge that he is teaching a class of cowardly retards. Now, Muggles, wish me happy seventeenth birthday.

_Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was July 31st 1997, and he was back at the Dursley's. It was the summer before his Seventh Year. One more year and he'd be free – no more Hogwarts, no more Snape, and certainly no more Dursley's. _

_The Year before, his 6th, they had decided it would be brilliant to bring in a Sex Education class, and Harry didn't think he had ever blushed so much in his life. Some Muggleborn woman, who blushed as often as Harry did and enjoyed hearing herself talk, had taught it. It was Dumbledore's way of stopping unwanted pregnancies. Harry had asked once, why they didn't get a Witch in to teach contraception charms and Hermione had bitched at him about Muggle contraception being just as good. Of course, when Harry had been asked to roll a condom down the length of a cucumber he'd messed up, and ended up pinging the rubber at the teacher's head. _

_He really didn't enjoy that class. And he knew from looking around every other Pureblood – but Ron – hated it too. Ron was always too busy taking notes and casting lewd glances at Hermione. Draco Malfoy could always be seen in that lesson staring at the ceiling as if begging for salvation. Occasionally, Harry would catch Malfoy staring at him contemplatively. Probably pondering if Harry had been spoken to about the Tradition, or not. _

_That wasn't all that happened last year. Harry frowned and lay back on his bed. He didn't really like thinking about Dumbledore's death. The man had died a month before school ended, and no one knew how. Professor McGonagall was worried that Dumbledore didn't come down to breakfast, lunch or dinner, one day and went to check on him. She found him slumped over his desk, cold as ice and his skin tinted grey. She had screamed almost loud enough to wake him. You know, loud enough to wake the dead. _

_Somehow, Harry had been appointed Leader of the Light Side. Against his wishes, of course. Ron had taken personal offence at that, claiming Harry was an attention seeker, and was using Ron to get in good with the Ministry. Harry didn't know where the hell the redhead was coming from. Ron had no fame or influence for Harry to use! It was rather obvious that it was Ron doing the using. Harry had figured it out in that instance, that his friend was nothing more than a opportunistic traitor, and had ditched him quickly. _

_Hermione hadn't been impressed either. Apparently, she was planning to become Minister for Magic, and if Harry led their World through the War they'd obviously make him Minister. She decided Harry must have been using her brains to get into the Ministry. _

Harry frowned; contemplating the inner workings of his ex-friends and Headmaster's twisted minds was never worth the headache it gave him. All he knew was that he was friendless and in forty-five minutes he would be seventeen; legally an adult in the Wizarding World, and free.

_Of course, Harry hadn't heard the front door open. He didn't hear his family being rudely woken at 11:15pm. Nor did he hear the car start as the Dursley's piled into it. The Wizard who stood in the doorway waved facetiously as Vernon pocketed the handful of cash he'd been given, and jumped into the driver's seat. Harry didn't know he'd been left alone for the whole night with Severus Snape_.

Oh it gets better, trust me. Just hang in there; I'm sure the more sadistic members of this class will enjoy it. And I'm sure those who don't enjoy it, can be taught to at least tolerate it. Draco is still looking for a birthday present for me, remember. So at least pretend you're all having a good time, ok scum?

_Snape threw the bedroom door open at exactly midnight, smirking as Harry flew from his bed and brandished his wand threateningly. Snape almost laughed when Harry recognized him and lowered the holly and phoenix feather wand. "Happy birthday, Potter," he snarled. _

"_Uh, thank you Professor," he said hesitantly, his forehead creased in thought. "Why are you here?" He blurted out before realizing how rude it sounded. _

"_Professor Dumbledore asked me to give you a birthday present." Harry beamed._

"_From the Professor? Really?" At the time, he still had faith in the old man. Snape just nodded stiffly and stalked slowly forward, towards the bed and Harry. "Sir?" His voice wavered as Snape breathed against his face, a smirk on his lips. _

"_Happy birthday, Potter," he snarled before shoving Harry hard on the shoulder. The teenager gasped and fell backwards. As he lay on the bed, his mind shut off and his heartbeat sped up. It couldn't be real, so he just wouldn't think about it. He couldn't bear to think about it. What the hell was Snape doing? Dumbledore would never have let Snape hurt him! Snape had saved his life so many times, why hurt him now?_

"_Undress," he ordered and Harry's hands shook as his head moved from side to side in a 'no'. "Undress now, boy," Snape bellowed. It was as if some ingrained part of him woke up at that moment. The part of him that the Dursley's had trained to take shouted orders in stride without compliant or question came to the forefront of his mind then, and his hands moved to unbutton his shirt. _

_His face took on a red tint, which trailed down over his chin and neck, as he exposed his chest. Snape moved so he was sitting astride the teenager, a cruel smirk on his face. "Hurry up, boy," he ordered. _

Harry flinched. His hands moved down to his belt, tugging it open and out through the loops on his trousers. He bit his bottom lip, pointedly refusing to look at his Professor as he pulled down the zip of his trousers. He lifted his hips up slightly, tensing as he brushed against Snape's crotch, before he pushed his trousers over his hips. He kicked his legs, forcing the trousers down before pulling his feet out. He hadn't been wearing boxer shorts, so he was naked now except his socks. He tried not to cry, but the shame he was feeling snuck up on him, bringing a surge of fear in its wake.

"_Please don't," he whispered, "whatever you're going to do, please just don't." He sobbed, his eyes were widen and frightened and already rimmed red. His lips were quivering as he desperately fought to keep his sobbing quiet. _

"_Pathetic, snivelling boy." Snape sneered and got off of him. For a naïve moment, Harry thought Snape was about to spare him. The assumption came crashing down around him as Snape removed his robes and pulled off his own belt. "Now, Potter," he smirked sadistically, "let's pretend you just blew up a Potion."_

_Harry's scream rang through the house – and even the neighbours heard, but didn't interfere – as Snape brought the belt down across his penis._

Oh for Mordred's sake. I can't believe two of you have already fainted. How pitiful; you both certainly won't be my presents then. Don't think I won't be telling Draco who you are. I'll leave it to him to punish you accordingly.

You think that little bit was bad? You haven't seen anything yet. But then again, if I want to have a class full of conscious students when I'm finished, I should probably skip parts, shouldn't I? CRUCIO, I didn't ask your opinion you disgustingly worthless Muggle. One more comment out of you, you little bitch, and I'll be one student short of a full class, is that understood?

I'm calm again: let's continue. I'll just have to summarize I suppose.

Snape took his belt to me, for at least two hours. For two hours he whipped me in the most sensitive places with his belt. He said he was teaching me respect… personally I think he was just living out some hidden kink. You know, like those people who hurt others because they want to be hurt back? Well, give me a few years from then and trust me when I say I hurt Snape back.

When he was finished with his belt he thought it would be a good learning experience for me if he poured volatile Potions all over me. He even cast the Imperious on me and made me get into a bath filled with Burning Solution. I don't think I've ever been in more pain. I had blisters on nearly every part of my body, I had skin peeling off of all the other parts of my body, I had bruises under the blisters and lashes under those. But that wasn't the end of it. He actually got out a camera and took pictures to remember the night by. Can you believe it? The utter evil bastard!

And when he was finished playing games with me, he healed me and made me lie on my stomach on the bed. And then… well you know what? I think I'll let you see this one for yourself. Call it a learning experience. Now, on three, everyone lean forward into the Pensive. One… two… three…

_Harry sobbed into the pillow. Never in all of his life with the Dursley's had he ever been in more pain or felt more humiliated. Snape had used a Polaroid camera on him – Merlin only knows where he got one – and had stuck the pictures onto all four walls in the room so Harry would be able to see them from any position. _

_Snape was still fully dressed, minus his belt. He moved to straddle the teenager's waist, sitting on top of Harry's arse. "Wasn't that fun, Potter?"_

"_Yes Sir," he muttered against the pillow, trying to stop his tears. _

"_Shall we continue, boy?" He asked, taking great pleasure in seeing the boy so broken. It didn't occur to him that with Dumbledore dead, he shouldn't have gone through with the Tradition. After all, Dumbledore wasn't here to save Harry anymore, and a broken Saviour wasn't going to be much use against Voldemort. He hadn't thought of any of that, all he could think about before the night was how much he was going to make Potter suffer for another of the child's Father's actions. _

_James Potter had found out about how Tobias Snape had raped him, and Severus had endured a years teasing and taunting from the Pureblood. Even after they had graduated, James Potter had used every opportunity to remind Snape that he was weak and unloved. Potter even broke Tradition by detailing how wonderful his Mother had been for his own birthday. _

"_Please Sir," Harry whispered around his tears, "please don't stop." Snape laughed as he un-zipped his trousers and pushed them down over his hips far enough to free his straining erection. _

_He spread the boy's thighs apart and shuffled back so the head of his cock was pushing against Harry's crack. The brunette teenager sniffed softly and pushed his face against the pillow. _

"_Such a beautiful boy," Snape whispered against Harry's ear, and the boy rather wished Snape were still saying mean things. _

_Without preparation, Snape pushed forward with a grunt. The head of his cock breeched Harry's opening, and the child screamed as more tears pooled and streamed down his face. "Please stop," he begged. _

_Snape ignored him. The elder Wizard continued to pull out and thrust back in, disregarding the pain he was putting the younger man through. He didn't care, all that mattered was getting back at Potter but he wasn't entirely sure anymore which Potter he wanted to hurt. He gave a pained groan as he felt his balls draw up. Warmth spread through his stomach as his penis ejaculated within the crying boy. "Wasn't that fun Potter?" He asked snidely as he stood up. "That's a much better Tradition, don't you think?" He tucked himself in, and grabbed his belt and robe. He redressed in silence before walking out of the room. _

_Harry lay where Snape had left him, and didn't move again until he heard the front door slam. He strained his ears, listening out for the telltale pop of apparition. When he heard it, he shifted so he was lying on his side, his knees drawn to his chest. Curled in on himself, Harry hugged his knees and cried loudly as blood and cum ran from his backside, staining his bed sheets pink._

I didn't find out about the Tradition until I made friends with Draco. That was after I joined Sides with Voldemort against you Muggles, a week after 'it' happened with Snape.

Unfortunately for Tom Riddle, he targeted the wrong type of people. Instead of attacking a small Muggle town, they attacked a military base. Two Death Eaters were captured and interrogated by army officials, who had beaten off the Dark Army with missiles and rockets. The idiots that had been captured told everything for the promise of being released. You'd think that they'd know better, having used that same "tell me what I want to know, and I'll let you leave" line themselves plenty of times before. But they told.

And the Muggles knew about us.

The news spread from that base, to the next, to a naval port, to an airfield, and then soon the ordinary Muggles, like you all, were finding out about my kind. And before we knew it, Muggles were dropping bombs on Wizarding England. There was no choice in my mind. Unity was the only solution. For the first time I was very glad that I had been Light Leader; if I wasn't, nothing would have gotten done.

I was also rather pleased that you waged War on us. If you hadn't of, I would still be curled in bed sobbing my heart out and feeling sorry for myself. Feeling dirty, weak and pathetic. But I'm not.

I found Voldemort and we joined up. He brought along his Death Eaters and I brought the Aurors and Unspeakables and the Order of the Phoenix. It was at the first meeting that I found out about the Pureblood Tradition Snape wanted to change. Draco told me.

_Snape stood at the front of the room, looking smugly in Harry's direction. The moment the Light joined with the Dark Side, Snape had come out and said he'd been spying on them, not for them. And Voldemort had believed him. Especially after he had explained in great detail how he had tried to break Harry to aide the Dark Side. And that was why he looked so smug, because Harry stood at the back of the room, flushing crimson and staring at the floor. _

_Most of the people in the room looked horrified, which Harry didn't understand, considering most of the people in the room were meant to hate him and everything he stood for. _

_Voldemort looked slightly disgusted, "very well Snape," was all the praise the man received. The smug look melted off his face and was replaced by a mask of anger directed at Harry. The problem with Snape was, that no one had ever explained the importance of the Tradition to him, and so he didn't understand how frowned upon it was to not only violate the Tradition by forcing a child to bed, but more importantly, how wrong it was to talk about the Tradition in public._

_Lucius Malfoy shot his friend a sneer before pulling Draco closer to his side. The younger blond, who wasn't wearing a skull-mask, frowned in Potter's direction. _

_When the whispers stopped Harry looked up and met Voldemort's eyes. "You fucked up, and we're all going to die."_

"_Nonsense," Lucius snorted, "they are Muggles what harm can they do?"_

Poor Lucius. That statement is rather ironic now, considering it was a Muggle and a gun that killed him two days before Draco's 19th birthday.

_Harry actually laughed, for a whole minute, before calming himself and looking straight at Lucius. "Do you have anyone in the dungeons, Tom?" Voldemort didn't answer, he didn't even scowl at the use of his given name; he merely nodded towards the closest Death Eater. The minion hurried out of the door that led to the Dungeon and came back dragging a young Muggle man behind him. "Goody." Harry beamed as he caught sight of Piers Polkiss, Dudley Dursley's best friend. _

_Piers was dropped on the floor in front of Harry, who reached a hand into his robe pocket. He pulled his hand out, and held it out in front of him, a gun in his grip. Piers gave a girly shriek at the sight of the gun, before regaining his bravado. _

"_What you gunna do, freak? I'll tell your Uncle, don't think I won't." He sneered. _

"_You won't," Harry agreed quietly, "because you'll be the first person, of many to come, that I'll kill." He aimed the gun, and took off the safety catch before smiling at Lucius. "This is what a Muggle can do." He pulled the trigger. _

_Many of the people in the room screamed, others clamped their hands over their ears while more fell to the floor and waved their wands out in front of them. "Your wand won't protect you from that," Harry said, putting the gun in his pocket and pointing at what was left of Dudley's friend. _

_Piers had been shot in the face at point blank range. Half of his head had been taken off, and what was left wasn't very pretty to look at. Draco caught one glimpse before he was bent over at the waist, heaving on to the floor. Lucius had paled behind his mask, and licked his lips nervously. _

"_Magic cannot protect you against that. I can't fight a War against Muggles, if I'm at War with you as well," Harry was talking to Voldemort now, but his eyes never left Piers' corpse. "I suggest we join sides. Unity and all that rot; it's what the Sorting Hat has been preaching for the past three years. We call a truce Tom, and you can take out all your unresolved sexual tension on the Muggles, ok?"_

"_UST?" Fred Weasley leant forward and whispered into Harry's ear. _

_The brunette shrugged, but it was his Brother George Weasley who answered. "Well it makes sense. Lack of sex makes you cranky. He is cranky, and he can't be getting much looking like that." If Voldemort had eyebrows, they probably would have met his hairline by now. _

_Harry gave an amused snort. "Well, what do you think?" Voldemort nodded._

_As the Light Side were finally leaving Voldemort's not-so-hidden-anymore hideout, Draco Malfoy ran after them. "Potter, wait!" He called before bending over and panting harshly. "Damn, you all walk fast." _

"_Can't wait to be away from you, Malfoy," Ginny Weasley sneered. She herself was sixteen now her Brother Charlie had spoken to her about the Tradition. Next year, it would be her turn, and she couldn't believe how angry she was when Snape spoke about Harry like he had. What Dumbledore was thinking, she'll never know, and if she found out, she'd wish to kill him again. _

"_Whatever," he said dismissively. "I need to speak with you Potter." Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged the boy to the nearest empty room. "Right, I'm probably going against Tradition cause I'm assuming Snape never actually explained. But then, he did do the practising part, so I'm not quite sure. Anyway, I'll risk it." He took a deep breath, "On your 16th birthday someone should have explained all this to you. Your parents – or since your parents are dead, a substitute – should have asked you what gender you prefer."_

"_I'm gay," Harry said slowly, unsure how the blond would take it. _

_He grinned, "me too." He coughed, "anyway, since your gay, your Father would have stayed and your Mother would have either left or stayed as well. Then they'd explain. When you're seventeen, it's a Pureblood Tradition to lose your virginity within the family. Your Father would have been your first. Some don't practise, like the Muggleborns or people like Weasley who wasn't a virgin by his 17th. _

"_Your parent is never meant to hurt you. It's a learning experience."_

_Harry laughed, "Yeah, that's what Snape said."_

"_He shouldn't have hurt you." Draco sounded very angry, "your parent is supposed to show and teach you how to please your future partner. Most marriages among Purebloods are arranged, and most contracts state that partners are not to be harmed or the contract terminates itself. Those types of things aren't very specific. A female losing her virginity always feels pain, that pain would have been picked up on by the contract, and the marriage is terminated. Getting it out of the way early fixes that, but you still might hurt your spouse. Your parent is supposed to help you learn, and let you practise."_

"_You chose your Father, right?" Draco nodded. "How was it?" _

"_Brilliant," the blond beamed again. A totally foreign look on the usually scowling boy's face._

"You should smile more often, Malfoy," Harry smirked and opened the door. "It makes you look rather pretty," Harry nodded at Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort who were walking along the corridor, passed the door he was exiting from, "in a girly sort of way." He smirked again and left Draco fuming.

_The blond couldn't believe he had even bothered trying to be nice. _

We started to talk civilly from then on. He taught me about the Tradition in more detail, and he was the only one I talked to about what Snape had done to me. Well, until I was forced to share my experiences with you worthless lot, at any rate.

When his Father died, two days before his 19th birthday, Draco was distraught. But he tried to keep living, like Lucius begged him too. We spent more time together, and in time, we fell in love. Maybe we were a little bit in love already but we just didn't know it. Maybe we still aren't in love, and we're just pretending, but oh well.

No that's a lie. I love him. He is the only person I ever loved, and the only one I think I will ever love. He married me because his Father wanted him to. Sometimes I think he doesn't love me at all, but other times I think I'm the only one he ever really loved. But they're both lies. I know he loved me and I know he doesn't love me as much as he loved Lucius, and I'm ok with that.

No one has ever loved me until Draco did. And even if he only loved me with half his heart – Lucius took the other half with him when he died – it was more than enough for me, if only because Draco loved me at all.

For a wedding present, Draco convinced Voldemort to let me have Snape. I tortured him for three days and I used numerous Muggle torture devices on him. He was particularly fond of Chinese Water Torture; I think that's the most water his hair had seen in years, at any rate. I rather enjoy pulling his nails off one by one with rusty pliers.

It was Draco's birthday a month ago; I contemplated finding a way to bring his Father back for him. He'd have Lucius back practically on the anniversary of when he lost him, but then I realized I was too selfish. Just because Draco loved me a little didn't mean anyone else would love me at all. I couldn't bear to give him up, to give him back to someone he loved wholly. Call me a bastard I don't care. Hell, I think Draco even knows what I was planning and why I changed my mind.

I couldn't give him his Father, so I chose to give him a Son. That's why he is sick at the moment. Morning sickness has just set in. When Madame Pomfrey told us about the pregnancy Draco fainted. When he woke up, he told me I was getting a divorce for my own birthday. I'll be twenty in two days. I know he was joking though.

"_I'm pregnant?" Draco asked, his eyes wide and his hand was pressed against his flat stomach reverently. "Really?"_

"_Yes, Mr. Malfoy, how many times do you require me to repeat myself?" Pomfrey clucked. _

"_As many times as it takes to sink in," Draco gave a small laugh at Harry's comment. His young husband stood by his side, holding onto Draco's other hand and smiling. "Is he really?"_

"_Yes, Mr. Potter-Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey hurriedly left the room before the question could be repeated. _

"_It worked," Harry said in awe. Draco raised an eyebrow and scowled. "I kind of, don't be mad – but I kind of, well I slipped you a potion. Do you mind?"_

"_YOU DID WHAT?" Draco roared, jumping off the hospital bed. _

"_Don't!" Harry cried trying to make Draco sit down again, "getting stressed is bad for the baby." He sniffed, "you don't really talk to your Mother anymore, not since your Father died. And I wanted, well I wanted to give you a family." Harry looked up at Draco nervously. The blond was scowling. "I read that children tended to feed off their Mother's magic, so I thought if you were pregnant, then the child would really be a Malfoy."_

"_Thank you Harry," Draco whispered. "Thank you so much." His hand was pressed against his stomach again. Harry's hand inched forward to join Draco's, rubbing small circles on the flat abdomen. "And when the child is of age, you can do the Tradition, since you never really got a chance." _

_Harry smiled, "I think we should let the child choose. As long as we're all happy then that's all the matters, right? We have years to think on it." _

That was almost four weeks ago. Neither of us can wait for the next 17 years to pass. As much as most parents hate it when their children grow up and leave them, Draco and I cannot wait. We aren't wishing our baby's childhood away, but rather we're wishing to show our child how much we care for him.

By sharing with him a Pureblood's most guarded treasure, more precious than gold or jewels. We want to share out Tradition.

You should consider yourself doubly lucky. This is the second time someone has shared their experience with you. Not that you deserve it. If it were up to me, I'd have you all gassed, or something. Vile, filthy, Muggles.

**The End**

Wow, this one is much longer than the prequel. I considered cutting it, but thought 'what could it hurt', so now you get a long one-shot. But seriously, go read the first one first; you'll probably understand more.

Also, to anyone who read KISS IT BETTER, there will be a sequel, and it will be called JUST ONCE. It won't be up for a while though, I'm back to school tomorrow and I still haven't done any revision! I'm so crap!


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